A Terrifying Memory
by mysteriousQuack
Summary: Ana has been keeping a terrible secret from Christian ever since she was kidnapped by Jack Hyde nearly two years ago. But she never thought that this horrid event from her past would interrupt their wonderful future in paradise. But Christian soon uncovers Ana's deceit; will he react rationally, or is the couple's happily-ever-after forever torn apart?
1. Chapter 1

Something isn't right. I know as soon as I walk through the door to our home and see Christian's car keys in the dish on the side table of the hallway instead of the key ring above it. He hates putting his keys in the dish because of the confusion it would create when all of our keys were in the bowl; I always thought that was a silly notion, which is why the dish is mine and the key ring above it is his. Christian never puts his keys in the dish.

Closing the door slowly, I can hear my heavy breathing as I tentatively lock the knob and dead bolt. The sound echoes eerily throughout the cavernous house. Since the renovation was just completed, there's a lot of empty space to be filled.

I cautiously look left and right, not noticing any item out of place, nothing else unusual. I feel confused as take a step forward across the wooden floors, my eyes narrowing in a minor form of anxiety. The first thought that races through my mind is the location of my son, then I remember that Taylor's daughter is watching him with Gail for today. My second thought is on the location of my husband.

Tentatively, I make my war ever so slowly through our home, scoping out every detail looking for signs of…anything, really. I hear water dripping from the faucet into the low metal basin of the kitchen sink to my right, the bright red room only containing deep mahogany cupboards, granite counters, and modern bar stools, with a large opening for the absent dining room table and chairs. Our paintings from our honeymoon hang on the walls, bringing a smile to my face.

Seeing nothing unusual, I continue onward to my bedroom upstairs. As I get closer to the staircase, a small amount of fear begins to well up within my chest as I pass the large living room with only a couch, an empty room with glass French doors that will be the dining room, and the grand space that will be Christian's work area. Like the kitchen, there is nothing out of the ordinary that I can see.

I have no idea why I have such an anxious feeling inside of me; maybe it's divine intuition. I roll my eyes at the thought and take a deep breath, grasping the smooth wood of the staircase hand railing. I exhale shakily and it seems like time is moving in slow motion before I finally arrive at the top of the stairs.

The landing is darkened because the windows all have shades that are pulled down. Looking ahead to our bedroom, I see that the door is partially opened and light is seeping through the frame. I feel nervous walking towards our room. My heels click obnoxiously loudly against the wood floor and I feel like it's the absolute most deafening sound on the planet. What is this fear for? Reaching the door, I tentatively push the heavy slab of wood. It swings open noiselessly, and I see that the source of light is coming from Christian's bedside lamp in the corner of the great room. Then I see him.

Christian.

He is sitting slouched in a plush arm chair next to his bedside table, his head laying limp in his hand, his hair unusually messy, not tousled as usual. Oh, my God. Something is definitely wrong.

I feel like he's somehow easily spooked, so I resist the urge to rush over to his side. Instead, I cautiously take the necessary steps towards the extremely exhausted-looking Christian. I reach his side and slowly kneel beside the chair, taking great care as I do because I don't much feel like ripping my sleek black designer pencil skirt.

I try to gaze into Christian's eyes, but his face is enclosed in shadows. "Christian?" I whisper. The sound of his name usually brings pealing bells of pleasure to my ears but this time, it brings fear. He doesn't respond, and that's when I notice the stench of alcohol on my husband and the nearly empty bottle whisky clenched in his left hand.

"Christian," I say again, and this time I catch the corner of his lip twitching twice. His breathing is shallow.

"Christian, baby, please, you're scaring me," I say, close to panicking. Should I call someone? No, find out what's going on first. Hesitantly, I reach a shaky hand out to touch his forearm. I don't expect his reaction. Christian suddenly comes to life, jerking his forearm away and glaring at me with a fearsome look of pure icy devastation. Good God, what's going on? I frantically search his face to make sure that he's uninjured and see that his eyelids are swollen and rimmed with red and it's extremely apparent that he's been crying for a while.

I swing back in shocked rejection and my fear spikes to sheer terror. The malice in his glare is aimed directly at me. Dear God. He breathes heavily through flaring nostrils, his fist clenching tightly around the glass bottle of whisky. His knuckles are so pale white I'm sure he'll snap the glass from how tightly he grasps it.

"Please, Christian, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen? Talk to me, I feel like death right now!" I manage to sputter out. Seeing him like this, so torn and demolished and alarming and downright terrifying is destroying me. The last time he was like this was over a year ago when I told him about Ted for the first time. But this is worse. So, so much worse.

My eyes frantically search is beautiful face, wanting to murder whatever is causing him so much pain. But it's apparent that it's me, because there is so much malice in his look directed towards me. I feel like running, but I don't, because this is Christian. This is my husband, and we've been through thick and thin. My mind races at the cause of his anger.

"Baby…" I trail off because apparently nothing I'm saying is getting through to him.

Suddenly, he stands, towering over me in his business suit. It's clear that as soon as he finished work he came straight to this chair after grabbing his alcohol because he usually changes when he gets home. That was three hours ago.

His steamy glare continues to penetrate me as I kneel on the floor, his brooding frame intimidating and alarming. My heart is racing and my inner goddess is crouched behind an arm chair in fear. Why is he acting like this?

Feeling angry myself, I spit out, "Christian, you had better start talking or I swear to God!"

He finally speaks, "I need to talk? Do I, am I actually the one who needs to do the talking?" His voice is husky and dry, like he's been screaming out in fury.

I feel confused at his words. "You're being completely irrational. What is this about, just tell me?" I ask, turning my fear into infuriation.

He takes a sudden dive down the floor on one knee, his face right in mine. Normally, I absolutely love this proximity, but the movement startles me and I fall to my elbows. Any other day this could have been the start to a wonderful evening of passion, but for obvious reasons this will probably not be one of those evenings.

Christian continues to stare at me for a few seconds that seem like years, then finally asks, "Would you care to explain to me why my _son_," he spits the word coldly, "isn't _mine_?"

Utter shock trembles throughout my body, along with sheer panic and disbelief at his words. "_What_?" I ask, incredulously. Confusion crumples my face and his is hard with rage.

"You heard me. Why am I not the father of Ted?" Christian is so silent, yet it feels like he's screaming.

"I…" having no way to answer that. Except…

"Anastasia, answer me!" Christian finally lets go of his rage, screaming at the top of his lungs. The veins of his forehead bulge with the pressure of his wrath and his skin turns a deep red.

My entire body shakes as what I wished would never happen, happens. I look around the room, anywhere but at him, but he grabs my head in both hands and jerks my face to force me to look into his sad, angry gray eyes. This can't be happening, it just can't. It wasn't supposed to because Ted is Christian's no matter what. That's what Dr. Greene had said when I told her what had happened. She said not to worry, that'd he'd never find out if I didn't want him to. She said it was less than a fifteen percent chance of being so.

The odds were not in my favor, it seems, because Christian's fury rains down an ungodly firestorm upon me as I remember what I never told him, my only secret kept unwillingly from my beloved husband.

Tears well up in my eyes as the fearful and terrifying memory floods my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

"You cheated on me?!" Christian seethes, a combination of fear mixed with wrath erupts in his voice. His face contorts in pain and confusion, wrinkling his forehead in heavy creases of outrage.

"Christian," I stutter, tears beginning to well and overflow in my eyes, "I…I would never—I didn't, why would you think that I…?" I don't even know where to begin, I simply want to avoid this occurrence all together, but I know that that's impossible. I knew it. I knew this perfect happily-ever-after was all too much to ask for. Why on earth would I think that nothing bad would ever happen with my relationship with Christian after all of the shenanigans we've been through ended.

I struggle for more things to say, to try to make his pain go away. To explain myself. But I know that he would never, ever forgive me for not telling him what happened. He would kill him. He would, I just know that he would. But if it's true…if he somehow did a paternity test to see if Ted really was his, which why the hell would he in the first place…I would never forgive myself. If my son was his…

My mind flashes back to that terrifying memory, when Jack kidnapped me when I tried to save Mia…

Unexpectedly, Jack whips his hand out, smacking me across the face. The abrupt gesture causes a shock wave to run through my stiff frame and I crumble to the hard sidewalk in over reaction. Something clatters alongside me and I feel a drop in blood pressure as my heart sinks, realizing that it is Leila's gun from Christian's office, once concealed and now in full view of Jack and his malevolent partner in crime.

Laughing, Jack slowly bends down to retrieve my biggest advantage over him, scoffing in my face as he does so. I am full on panicking now. What the hell is going to happen to me? Is he going to kill me? I don't want to die…not yet, anyway.

I make a rash decision and kick him as hard as I can while he's bending back up, my foot lashing out in a ninja-like move. Pain radiates throughout my leg from the shock of the impact, but I don't care. Jack is obviously taken aback; he grunts out a lungful of air and stumbles backward, falling satisfactorily on his ass with an audible thump.

I'm no good at thinking about fighting moves of the top off my head, and it's for this reason that I stand stock still in utter paralysis as Jack has the time to leap to this feet and hit me so hard against my skull with the handle of the gun that I black out.

When I come to consciousness, the first thing I feel is the throbbing pain on the left side of my head. I feel extremely tired and worn down; I just want to sleep. I wonder where Christian is, where Mia is, where I am. I make to move my arms because my shoulders feel stiff for some reason, only to find out that I cannot. Because I'm handcuffed to a metal pole above my head, my body sagging as it hangs.

Abruptly I stand and the metal of the chains rattles against the iron pole I'm attached to. I look around at my surroundings and discover that I'm in some sort of dank empty basement. The walls are all concrete and damp at the corners. There's nothing of importance in the room, except for a small wooden stool five feet in front of me. I look to my left and see a pile of clothes and think nothing of it, until I notice the blazer on top. My blazer.

I look down at my body to see that I'm only dressed in my bra and panties.

Full on terror entwines my heart and anxiety causes my head to spin. What the actual fuck. Was I raped? I feel fine down there…where is Jack? Where is Mia? Where is Christian? Where am I?

I twist my head frantically back and forth, trying to find clues, trying to see…anything, really. The only light source is coming from a dying fluorescent bulb in the ceiling. Then a sound, the rattle of a door knob in the far right corner. It opens. He enters.

He looks at me hungrily and tears spill down my face. My breathing becomes fast, ragged, choppy, fearful. I feel like I'm having an anxiety attack. My chest is clenched and feels so tight my heart might just pop right out of my mouth.

Jack stalks forward towards me slowly, a gleam of malice in his narrowed, beady eyes. I didn't think it was possible but my heart beats even faster and all of my muscles clench in fear of what may happen to me.

He reaches me, his nose three inches from mine. His breath is a stinking concoction of coffee and some type of Asian food. I nearly wretch buy my stomach is completely empty, seemingly even of bile.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispers, smiling slightly and looking my face all over. He lightly touches my bare waist with the back of his calloused hand and my skin quivers and shies away all it can. I shut my eyes tight and wish it all away. I just want to be in Christian's arm again.

"Open your eyes," he commands, stopping his unnerving caresses down my side. I scrunch my face tighter. "I said open you damn eyes, bitch!" he yells. Suddenly a stinging pain explodes across the side of my face and I know he's slapped me.

I cry out, sobbing as I wrench open my terrified eyes. "Look at me," Jack spits out. I do as I'm told and look apprehensively into his disgusting pig eyes, trying to push as much hatred into my glare as I can.

"Oh, baby," he says huskily, you're so beautiful like this." He looks me up and down hungrily and movies to unzip his pants. He does so, and releases himself. "Look at me, all of me," he says. I refuse and he slaps me yet again. I squeal and glance down; he's pathetic and I gag. He hits me again.

"You know you want me. You've wanted me from the very first day we met. And today will be the big day, that I fuck Christian Grey's wife. You're going to love it."

I spit in his face. "Fuck you, you disgust me, you pig," I wheeze. My voice is incredibly dry and hoarse, like I've been screaming a thousand years. Again, I am struck by him. I don't cry out this time, instead, asking, "Where is Mia?"

He laughs. "Mia? There is no Mia. There never was. You're just incredibly stupid enough to believe that I would be able to kidnap her." He laughs some more.

My mind is blank. What? He can see the shock on my face. "Yes, baby, no Mia. Just you." He smiles and I cringe. He bends to slowly pull my panties down my legs. I push my knees together tightly. He hits me twice and wedges them apart. I cry and scream over and over again, no no no, but it's no use. He's much stronger that I will ever hope to be. My mind is reeling. No Mia. I'm a complete and utter fool.

I want Christian so badly. I hope he finds me soon…

"Bitch, you had better stop struggling or I will personally send my people to kill your rich idiot husband!" Jack growls. This stops me in my tracks. Christian…no. He takes full advantage of my temporary stillness and plunges deep inside of me, ripping at my skin and pulling at my arms with his hands.

He moves, the look on his face is pure pleasure. I feel totally helpless and scared, completely the opposite of how Christian would make me feel if he did something like this to me. Christian!

"Please! Stop, please stop!" I cry as he continues his relentless torturing of my body. It's extraordinarily unpleasant not just because of the person doing it to me, but because it brings me no passion, no joy, no love. I feel sick.

He is moving fast and quick and I feel so dry and horrid. It pulls and it hurts and I want simply to die right then and there. There is no Mia, I'm such a fool. But Christian is alright, yes. He is alright. If I let him do this to me, Christian will be alright.

He finds his release inside of my degraded body and I feel like complete and utter hell. "Ahh," he sighs, "that was fantastic, Ana. Now if you cooperate like this continually, I'll let Christian go on unharmed," he whispers against my ear, nibbling the bottom of the lobe. It takes everything in my power to not pull away and head-butt him.

"Now," he begins, "I'm going to let you down from here, and you're going to get dressed like a good girl. Alright?" He smiles at me and takes a small silver key from a necklace around his neck that I never noticed before.

Once I'm released, I press my body against the cold hard wall in fear. I stare at him, half naked with his pants at his ankles. I stare at the part of him that was inside of me, that tarnished me, dishonored what was only for Christian. I am so scared. I quiver everywhere and feel ugly and disgusting.

I decide then and there that if I ever escape this, I will never, ever tell Christian what he did to me, to his wife. He would kill Jack, for sure.

Jack pulls up his pants and fastens them. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek and I want so badly to punch him in the face. But I hold back, because I don't want Christian to get hurt. My entire face trembles at his touch.

He leans back and leaves. I quickly pull my panties up and put on the rest of my clothes. I refuse to think about anything. About me, about Jack, about Christian, about what just happened to me. Nothing. Instead, I curl up on the floor and cry, holding myself tight.

Then I feel in the inside pocket of my blazer, my last hope. The cell phone from the bank. Please, Christian, please find me.

I fall asleep on the hard cold ground

I wake suddenly, Jack in my face. "You whore bitch! What the fuck did you do, how the fuck did he find me?!" He's raging above me and I'm in a confused daze. I look around just in time to see the door burst up and…Christian!

But then a huge amount of pain explodes in my side and I look from my wonderful husband to Jack, who has Leila's gun, slightly smoking, in his hand. Christian charges forward screaming, and I feel the life drain out of me in the form of blood.

I black out.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital.


End file.
